The Stormfly
by Foxy'sGirl
Summary: No one has ever talked to Stormfly up close, even since she started cleaning up Berk City's gang violence problem with a vengeance. Hiccup is going to be the first to track her down. Superhero AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Someone requested a superhero AU and it took over my life. And it's amazing. **

00000

Hiccup supposes he must have a thing for unattainable women. He's a helicopter pilot for Berk City Channel four, and no matter how sweeping the cityscape is at sunrise, he's always looking for something else, something more. Whether it's the new weather girl, Astrid Hofferson, with those dark rimmed glasses highlighting bright blue eyes that haven't looked at him twice or…well, or _Stormfly_.

Stormfly, she's all over the news. Crime fighter extraordinaire, a real flying, super strong super hero who comes with a full set of shiny blue and yellow spandex. And she fights crime, she's almost single handedly eliminated the threat between the Dragons and the Hooligans, and petty crime is down forty three percent.

Forty three percent.

She's a magician. She's unendingly, unbelievably beautiful.

Not many people have seen her up close, he's one of the few. No one has talked to her and he's going to be the first.

There are just so many questions, so many impossibilities. How can she fly? Is it the suit? He's seen the suit and it's so _tight_ he doubts she's hiding any sort of jetpack technology. Is it alien? Is she alien? Why doesn't she come forward and work with the police?

It's awesome that she doesn't, his father would take far too much credit at the mayor's office for something like that, but he still wonders _why_. It would make sense for her to approach law enforcement, work out some sort of deal making it easier for them to arrest the perpetrators. Maybe she doesn't want them arrested, maybe she's using them for something.

Why is she doing this in the first place? He would have noticed her around, he absolutely would have seen her at some point in high school or college or on the street if it were a hometown sort of deal. Stormfly isn't someone who'd go unnoticed anyway, he doesn't think. It wouldn't work, she's too…obvious.

He glances around the office before sitting down at the dusty old laptop he never uses, clicking it on and setting his radio on the desk. He has half an hour before he has to take Sports Correspondent, Snot Jorgenson to do a fly around above the baseball game, which is a lovely new part of his job.

He swears, Snot just wants access to the helicopter. They aren't even supposed to be in that airspace technically, but when the people flying are the mayor's son and nephew, apparently rules don't apply.

The laptop finishes booting and he opens a search page, feeling a little more than stupid as he types Stormfly into the search bar and hits enter. _Stormfly saves children from burning bus at the bottom of ravine. _He didn't know she liked kids. _Stormfly flies governor to hospital, mid heart-attack_.

None of this is what he wanted, it's all so recent and…blurry. Like bad bigfoot photos. He saw her clearer than this when she blitzed in front of his chopper last week, hiding briefly from gang gunfire before soaring back into the fray. Definitely no jetpack.

He goes back into the search bar and adds _origin_ to the name. Before he can hit enter there's a slam on the desk.

"What are you doing in here?" It's the weather girl, Astrid. No, weather woman. There's nothing _girlish_ about her when she's staring him down like that, eyes laser sharp through her glasses.

"This is my desk," he points to the dusty placard at the front corner. It's grimy enough as to be illegible but she seems pacified anyway.

"I never see you in here," she leans in a little closer and he resists the urge to look down her shirt. "Aren't you supposed to be flying Snot somewhere? He's been _bragging_ about it all morning. It's exhausting."

"Oh, so you came over her to use me to get rid of Snot?" He fakes offense and she smiles, barely. Flirting with a laugh instead of committing.

"What are you doing on the computer?"

"Just—it's plugged into a monitor," he warns her, scrabbling for the cord as she turns his laptop around and wiggles a loose VGA cable at him. "What? I could have sworn that was plugged in."

"Guess you swore wrong," she shrugs and purses her lips, and he notices that she doesn't have her on-air makeup done yet. She looks prettier, younger, those thick rimmed glasses sitting in shallow indents on the bridge of her nose. This is the first time she's talked to him since that professional handshake on her first day at the station.

Too bad Berk doesn't have tornados or hurricanes along with those lackadaisical blizzards that no one cares about. Then he could have had an on-site weather report with her or something. "You're looking up The Stormfly? And you started by googling Stormfly?" She snorts and turns the computer back towards him.

When he reaches to plug it back into the monitor, it's already done and he shakes his head, wondering if he's actually going insane this time.

"It seemed like a good place to start," he frowns, "and I'm pretty sure it's just 'Stormfly' not 'The Stormfly'."

"Whatever," she crosses her arms and looks back towards the makeup table in the corner before checking her watch. "And whatever she's called, I don't think she's doing what she's doing to fuel some nerdy superhero fascination."

"Why do you think she's doing it?" He closes the laptop, feeling silly for googling _Stormfly_ in the first place. If it were that obvious, someone would have solved the mystery by now.

"Well, she's not getting paid," Astrid numbers it off on an elegant finger and he thinks back to the night before, watching her talk about a high pressure system to the north and unknowingly causing a high pressure system to the south. She glares at him like she can read his mind and he swallows hard. "And she's not into the press, I don't think, or her picture would be…" a sidelong glance at the studio door, "everywhere. So I'm thinking it's probably a simple quest for the greater good. We'd all sleep a little better without those damn Dragons shooting in every dark alley all night. Every night. Don't they understand that it's really loud?"

"I hadn't thought about the noise consequences of gang violence," he runs a hand back through his hair and she looks at him strangely, turning to perch on the edge of his desk, familiar in a way he doesn't quite know how to handle.

"Why do you think she's doing it?"

"Greater good," he shrugs and chews on the inside of his cheek, wondering if it'd be as silly as his ignorant internet search to say anything else. "What I'm wondering is why she hasn't teamed up with law enforcement."

She laughs.

"You're the mayor's son, right?" She doesn't wait for him to nod, sitting up straight and continuing like she already got her answer, "Have you ever considered how overrun the police force is in Berk? Because if they had more officers, there wouldn't be this gang problem to begin with. I bet she just doesn't want to deal with squeezing into their schedule, when it's easier to take care of it herself."

"Huh, I haven't thought of it that way." He narrows his eyes at her, "why do you know so much about Berk's police force."

"Have you seen the way Snot follows me around? Because he's always yapping about how his dad is on the force and his uncle is mayor and how they don't _need_ some 'sexy super chick' flying around and helping." She sneers a little too viciously and it makes him smile. She whips to face him inhumanly quickly, blonde ponytail swinging behind her. "Is that funny?"

"No, I'm just—I'm just glad that I'm not the only one annoyed with Snot."

That seems to satisfy her and she softens slightly, tapping her foot on the floor. "You know, googling 'Stormfly origins' isn't going to find you anything."

"I see that now, it was…I'd thought about looking into it but hadn't actually done anything yet, you know? It seemed like a starting place."

"Plus, shouldn't you be looking at your friendly neighborhood chemical plant? Or nuclear reactor? Or UFO crash site?" She shakes her head and gives him a tiny but absolutely dazzling smile, "no one has ever solved the big mystery through google."

"I'm not trying to solve a big mystery—"

"Good," she cuts him off and stands. "What do I call you?"

"Hiccup," he reaches for the placard and dusts it with his finger. "Obviously not my real name but…but that's what everyone calls me."

"Oh, I didn't want to…It seemed like some insult Snot made up or something, but if that's how you actually introduce yourself—"

"It is," he offers her his hand, like it's her first day all over again. "There was a point in third grade where I just decided to own it."

"That's brave of you." She shakes his hand and lingers for a second, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why _are_ you so interested in The Stormfly?"

"She flew by the chopper the other night and—and it left an impression."

"You aren't going to find her. No one has found her yet."

"I have stubbornness issues."

00000


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok guys, you all got really really excited, and I love that. But I have to warn you, as of right now, this is a three parter. It's not a full expanded story. And though I have ideas…it's not a priority. So please, enjoy what there is, and I'll think about writing more, but don't expect an epic adventure right this moment. **

00000

"I've done it," Hiccup drops a thick stack of papers on Astrid's desk, grinning broadly and crossing his arms.

"You've done what?"

"It has only taken me three months, but I found her. It's real this time, I actually found her."

"So this isn't like last week when you dragged me to that abandoned warehouse where you were _sure_ she was?"

"No, this isn't like those other times," he pats the stack of papers. "This is it. I found her. It's a house over on thirty fifth street, by the subway station—"

"What?" She yanks the stack of papers away from him and starts flipping through them. Her bangs fall into her face and he almost reaches out to push them behind her ear but they're back in place before he can blink.

God, she's beautiful. Any stupid, nerdy crush he had on The Stormfly flew out the window after knowing Astrid for five minutes in reality. She's new in town and oddly receptive to all of his favorite landmarks and restaurants, and they've started taking daily walks at lunch, just around downtown.

And no matter what she says, she has an interest in The Stormfly too. She'll listen to all of his theories, she even suggested a few clues in articles and online. None of them panned out, and they all seemed to lead to rather picturesque dead ends in creepy abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town, but her interest counts for everything.

And then there was that office Christmas party a couple of weeks ago with the mistletoe and the _kiss_…

She didn't talk to him over New Years and came back in early January with a tan, but it's probably a good thing she was gone. The Dragons and the Hooligans had some big spat and The Stormfly didn't show up to break it up. Everyone was so glad to see her fly in a few days ago, especially Hiccup.

"How did you find all of this?" Astrid sounds vaguely panicked and he can't quite place why. "This is way more detailed than anything you told me about."

"That's because it's from the last couple of weeks when you were…out of town," he swallows against the heavy feeling in his chest. Because she kissed him, and he kissed her back, and Snot made retching noises. It was beautiful.

And then nothing _happened_ and she left. He shakes his head and gets back to the explanation, "I noticed something watching the news reports and looking at some maps down at the police station, I was stuck there with my uncle—never mind. Anyway, the violence broke out in a very predictable way, and then it hit me. They were coming out onto The Stormfly's usual paths, where they've been repressed." He flips a few pages to a map, dotted with blue sharpie. "See? She must work downtown or something, because she walks around a whole lot, but mostly right down here," he points to the riverfront near the news building and Astrid sits back, exhaling heavily.

"Right by work."

"Yeah, right by work. She's been right around here the whole time and we never even _thought_ of it." He continues flipping through the stack to a map of Berk city, "and then I looked at the city as a whole and noticed something. There's a ring of crimes out from this block, heaviest nearby and normal levels out here. So it must be on this block, she probably lives here—"

"Hiccup, this is ridiculous, what kind of superhero has a _lair_ in suburbia?"

"Did you just call her a superhero?" He looks up at the word Astrid has pointedly avoided until now and she's so close, leaning over the file with him. He could just lean in and—

"Yes, so she lives on this block?" She cuts him off with a glare and points to the map. "How do you know which house? Are you just going to go and knock on every single door and ask them if they've fought any crime lately?"

"It's easier than that. I called a few real estate agencies around town and only one of those houses has changed hands in the last few months." He pokes the single roof dotted with a yellow highlighter. "Here, this one is a _rental_. If that doesn't reek of secret lair—"

"That's ridiculous, Hiccup. That could be anyone's house. Just because someone is renting a house doesn't mean they're a _superhero_-"

"There it is again. Superhero, why do you think she's a superhero all of a sudden?" He narrows his eyes at her and she scoffs.

"If this is her house and you're _so_ sure, what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going there after work. Do you want to come?" He blurts before he can think about it and she stares at him for a second, lips quirking into a smile for a second before faltering into something _else_.

"Like a date?" She laughs. His heart sinks in his chest and she feigns wiping an imaginary tear from one of her eyes, adjusting her glasses, "don't do this, Hiccup. Just don't."

"I'm going," he picks up the file and closes it carefully. She laughs at him again, and it's not quite right. Not her vibrant, normal every day laugh. It's _mean_ and Hiccup feels like an insult. "I'm going there right after work and you—you're welcome to join if you change your mind."

He leaves before she can laugh again, grabbing his keys and radio on the way out. Screw it, he'll go there now. There's a thud behind him and he looks towards Astrid's desk. She's not there anymore, but it's not something he's concerned with at the moment.

She _laughed_ at him. She laughed at his project and his ideas and she didn't say anything after they kissed and—

Maybe he would have been better off chasing Stormfly. He's obviously better at tracking down her suburban lair than he is at knowing what Astrid is thinking.

He gets in his car and speeds onto the freeway, turning on the radio to drown out the silent embarrassment in his head.

'…this is an emergency broadcast. The Stormfly is engaging a Dragon Gang-leader, believed to be the man known only as Night Fury. Dragon weaponization appears to have progressed an the gang members are climbing the nearby skyscrapers. Stay away from the windows, I repeat, stay away from the windows. Major Traffic detour caused by the fight and we advise you to find an alternate route to highway seven-"

He flicks it off, rethinking his plan. Maybe…maybe this is wrong. She's doing good, Night Fury has been infuriating his father for _a year_ and now there's someone who might be able to take him out. What is he going to gain by finding her anyway?

Sure he's been looking for a few months, but—

No, if he turns around now, these months mean nothing. For a while there, he thought about putting it down, because what if the superhero mania was just a manifestation of some sort of lonely panic. And he had Astrid, he was getting to know Astrid and he…he _liked_ her. Still does. If she shows up outside of this house with him, he will give it up.

She laughed at him because this is ridiculous. She put up with it for so long because…well, he doesn't really have an answer to that yet, but he's thinking about it.

It's fifteen minutes later when he pulls up in front of the mundane little house on the plain street and this starts to feel genuinely silly. There are a few kids playing in a yard next to the house, a little blonde girl dressed in blue pretending to fly around. Stormfly's a celebrity. In a good way.

Even if this is her lair, even if he finds her, he won't give her up or anything like that. He just wants…he wants to know. He wants to accomplish something.

He turns on the radio, wondering if he should just sit here or if the battle is over.

'…Night Fury has escaped. I repeat, Night Fury has escaped and Stormfly is nowhere to be found. Rumors of her being injured are unconfirmed—"

Crash!

He jerks upright and looks around for the sound of the noise, and the little girl in blue is staring at the house. He turns off the engine and gets out, walking up the sidewalk with increasing urgency. What if Stormfly is hurt?

He knocks on the door and an almost familiar swear drifts through the wood. Someone stumbles inside and he knocks again, opening his mouth and almost calling out 'Stormfly' before feeling stupid. What if it is a title? It almost sounds better as The Stormfly, no matter how much he argued that with Astrid.

God, he wishes Astrid were here. She'd just barge through the door and see what was up. He wishes he'd argued harder for her to come with him, that she'd been receptive to it.

He knocks a third time.

The door flings open to the inside and his jaw drops.

"Astrid?"

"What do you want, Hiccup?" She crosses her arms and glares at him and he takes a moment to absorb what she's wearing. Pajamas, long sleeved, button up pajamas like he's never seen before on an actual woman. They're matching red flannel and covered in white stars and remind him of Christmas.

She was at work, half an hour ago, in a suit.

"How did you get here so fast?" He asks and his eyes widen. "Why are you here? Is this your house? Why didn't you tell me—are you bleeding?"

"What? No, I'm not," she looks down at her arm, at the deep red stain spreading down towards her elbow, and swears.

"Wait a—this is the house. And Stormfly walks around downtown where we work, especially where we work. And the radio just said Stormfly might be injured and you're—"

She cuts him off with a bruising kiss, grabbing the front of his coat and yanking him inside with force that hurts his shoulders. He's vaguely aware of the door slamming shut behind him as he's pressed against it, her lips firm and earnest and warm against his. His hands find her hips reflexively and she leans against him, heavier than she looks as the back of his head knocks painfully against the door with a small pained noise.

She jerks back like he burned her and starts pacing in the middle of a small, neat living room, running her hand through absolutely crazy hair.

"I knew I shouldn't—God, that was dumb. I can't—"

"You're still bleeding," he points numbly at her arm and she looks down at it before looking back at him carefully.

"This is stupid, Hiccup."

"I've never seen you without your glasses before," he muses, dumbstruck and reeling. His lips tingle like she burned him and he reaches up to touch them, wincing when his arm complains. "Did you really have to drag me in here so _forcefully_, ouch—oh my god, it is—"

He doesn't see her cross the room but she's on him again, notably gentler as her hand tangles in his hair, cushioning the back of his head. Her nose presses urgently into his cheek as the kiss deepens, her tongue slipping between his teeth to tangle with his. He grips her waist through the pajamas and they slide slickly across whatever is underneath, shielding the warmth of her skin.

She jerks away again and resumes pacing before he can _breathe_, tugging at the ends of her hair.

"See I _hurt_ you again—"

"You didn't hurt me," he stands away from the door, rolling his shoulders as if to prove that they still work.

"And I hurt you at Christmas, you made this _sound_ like I was bashing your face in—"

"What?"

"God, for a smart guy, you're really an idiot." She turns to him and holds her arms out like she's presenting something before dropping the act and snorting. "I've messed up so much in the past few days, I shouldn't even have to tell you. Seriously, I've been an idiot. Why did I even try and head you off? You could have showed up to an empty house on a boring street and given up, but no, I had to race over here as soon as I knew you were leaving—"

"How did you know I was leaving?" He remembers every word of that conversation clearly and he never told her that he was leaving. He said he was going to check it out after work. That's all he said, isn't it?

"I'm The Stormfly," she claps her hands against her sides. "And it is 'The Stormfly' thank you very much, it's a title."

00000


	3. Chapter 3

**Last chapter of this thing. And this chapter is adorable and satirical and I love it. **

00000

Hiccup stares at her, trying to put it together.

He did it. He found _The_ Stormfly.

He also found Astrid, and he's not quite sure how the two of them go together. She must have scrambled his brains with that kiss. She has _superpowers_. Astrid isn't just subjectively special and beautiful and wonderful, she's actually special. She has _powers_.

She can fly, he knows that much. He's suddenly gripped with infantile jealousy and he opens his mouth without thinking. "You can fly? How is that fair? How do you get to fly? I spent two years to get my license to fly and you're just doing it willy-nilly? Is that even _legal_?"

"That's what you're concerned about?"

"I think you messed up my brain with that kiss," he glares at her and she rolls her eyes, resuming pacing.

"I can't mess with your brain," she pauses to reconsider, "well, not without punching you in the face. But no, I didn't _mess with your brain_."

"What can you do?"

"No, Hiccup! This isn't some show and tell where I do a few tricks in my living room to get you to believe me. You either believe me or you get out. Either way, you don't tell anyone, ever." She's suddenly right in front of him, hand fisted in the collar of his shirt. "You got that?"

"Yeah," he nods and she clenches his shirt tighter, lifting him a few terrifying inches off of the ground and narrowing her eyes at him. "I got it, I won't tell anyone. I can keep a secret, Astrid—"

"You—you called me Astrid."

"It is your name," he laughs nervously and looks down at his shirt, which appears to be tearing. "Can you let go now?"

"Right," she drops him and steps away. "Right, you said you weren't going to tell. I was all—I was gearing myself up to knock you out and airdrop you at the nearest hospital, hoping for amnesia. I don't think I could have done that."

"Well uh, I'm glad?"

"You found my house through a crime map?" She asks, seemingly unperturbed even as blood starts dripping slowly onto the hardwood.

"You're still bleeding."

"Dammit," she looks down at her arm, smearing her blue shod foot through the blood on the floor. "So much for bulletproof, right?"

"You're bulletproof?"

"Joke, Hiccup. Well, the secret's out, isn't it?" She laughs humorlessly, tugging the red pajama top over her head and revealing sleek blue and yellow spandex, ripped wide around a gauge in her bicep. "That's…that's the first time I've ever been shot." She laughs again, waving her arm around. "It all still works, I should probably just wrap it up—"

"You need stitches," he steps forward and grabs the blood soaked elbow of that spandex suit, leaning down to look at the wound. "And we need to stop the bleeding."

"We?" She jerks her arm away from him and sulks towards the kitchen, pulling a black towel off of the fridge and pressing it to the wound with a stoic twitch of her jaw. "I'm fine Hiccup, you should honestly probably go, I just need to go to sleep and it'll be mostly better by morning."

"What?" He wipes her blood awkwardly on his jeans, resisting the urge to _smell_ it. Because it can't be human blood, can it? It can't be the same tangy, coppery, salty substance that oozes out of his paper cuts. "It'll be better by morning?"

"_Mostly_ better," she shakes her head and struggles with the towel for a moment before setting it on the counter and pulling a roll of bandages out of a drawer. She tears the sleeve of her suit off and slides it down her arm before picking up the bandage, leaving smudged red fingerprints on the white gauze as she tugs it around her arm. She struggles for a moment before sighing and looking at him. "Do you mind?"

"Do I mind?" It's still so bizarre, top half wounded superhero, bottom half Astrid in her pajamas. "Oh, helping you—not at all. Here," he steps up to her and takes the roll of gauze, wrapping it carefully around the wound.

"You can pull it tighter than that, you're not going to hurt me."

"I don't need to pull it tighter," he ties it off in a careful knot and cuts the bandage off with his pocket knife.

"So I take it you're probably going to nerd out now and ask me a million questions and—ugh, I'm an idiot."

"I don't know if I'd say I'm 'nerding out' but I do have a few questions," he watches a little too closely as she slides the torn sleeve the rest of the way off of her arm and drops it in the trash.

"Let me guess, how do I fly?" She picks the towel back up and starts wiping blood off of her arm.

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Isn't that obvious?" She scoffs, taken aback as she crosses the room disappearing into what he guesses is her bedroom and shutting the door. It opens again thirty seconds later and she's cleaner, dressed in less Christmassy pajama pants and a tank top that sits crisp and white against her clean arm. He blinks and she rolls her eyes, stretching her shoulder. "Sorry that took so long, I'm stiff. It itches like crazy."

"What's supposed to be obvious?"

"Oh, right," she smiles at him and shrugs, good hand coming up to comb tangles out of her hair. "I like you. So I kissed you. But it's stupid and we should both just forget about it."

"Why is it stupid? I like you too, so much." He takes it as a good sign when she blushes. "I really like you, Astrid. You're great and so pretty and smart and—"

"Super?" She curls her lip at him. "Do you have any idea—this—I could throw you over this house. You're a great guy, Hiccup, but for someone with…let's be honest, you'd do better with someone with less than average strength."

"Hey, I'm strong."

"Maybe you are, I can't tell the difference between a strong person and a weak person, Hiccup. You could be motherfucking Clark Kent and I probably wouldn't care."

"Is Clark Kent real?"

"Fuck if I know!" She slams her hand on the doorframe and it splinters, molding crumbling away from dented metal underneath it. "Shit. That's like the fourth time this…week," she steps away from the wall and slumps onto her couch, curling her knees towards her chest. "Ugh, this is stupid, can't you just accept that?"

"I don't think you're going to hurt me, if that's really what you're worried about," he too slowly crosses the room and sits down next to her, not close enough to be presumptive. She reaches out and excessively gently taps her fist against his arm and he knows better than to feign pain. "What was that for?"

"Stalking me."

"I was stalking Storm—sorry, The Stormfly."

"I'm The Stormfly."

"I wouldn't have stalked her if I knew she was you—not that you're not stalk-worthy or anything, because—I'm making an ass of myself." He nods and looks over at her. "So you diverted me on purpose? To all those skeevy warehouses?"

"And then I went with you to make sure nothing happened."

"What would you have done if someone did try to attack me?" He scoffs. "Kicked their asses and then knocked me out and hoped for amnesia?"

"No, I would have taken them out with my laser vision from fifty yards."

"You have—"

"Joke!" She cuts him off, stretching her legs and resting her feet on the coffee table. It looks like something out of a lab, and shifts under her ankles, lighter than it should be.

"Is your coffee table made out of titanium?"

"Yes," she barks out a laugh and runs her fingers back through her hair. "I used to have a wooden one from Ikea but I replaced it…ten times? I got it at a lab supply store."

"Maybe you should invest in some doorframes," he laughs and she smiles at him, almost comfortable.

"Rental, remember?" She sighs and looks at the bandages on her arm, the shadow of blood visible beneath the gauze. "Look Hiccup, I'm really tired. This—it hurts and if I just sleep—"

"It'll do its super healing thing?"

"Something like that."

He almost moves to stand, a little caught up in her lovely slow blink. He leans sideways and kisses her, a bit cautious, almost expecting her to resist. She doesn't, leaning up into him and moving her mouth against his. He pulls away and smiles half of a nervous smile, "am I going to see you at work?"

"Probably not," she shakes her head. "I don't know. It seems like the secret is out now, and I should move on."

"You can't just move on," he sits up straight, affronted. "I said I wouldn't tell anyone."

"That doesn't help anything. That doesn't mean that this would work or anything—"

"By _this_ do you mean—"

She kisses him again, and if she's going to do that every time she wants him to shut up, it's not really something he's going to complain about. She pulls away and looks down, good hand brushing against the holes near the collar of his shirt, the blood stain across his chest, the sleeve of his jacket.

"Obviously I mean _this_." She tugs on his coat again, exhaling sharply.

"I—How about this," he looks at her carefully to make sure she's listening. "I stay here tonight, not in any uh, _sexual_ way but—I'm assuming you need someone to make you dinner while you super heal—"

"It's not _super_ healing, it's just healing."

"Fine, while you _fast_ heal, you'll need some dinner and…and if you don't accidentally pulverize me at any point in the night, we'll talk in the morning."

"I'm…I'm an active sleeper," she raises an eyebrow, corner of her lip quirking slightly.

"I was planning to sleep on the couch but I won't turn down that offer." He laughs and she yawns again. "Seriously. Let me be the Igor to your Frankenstein for a night. The Robin to your Batman—"

"The Lois to my Superman?"

"That's more of a permanent arrangement."

"We'll see," she smiles and gives him a tiny nod. "If you're alive in the morning."

00000


End file.
